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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094534">Retrouvailles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draya/pseuds/DT%20Maxwell'>DT Maxwell (Draya)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Coffee &amp; Carbuncles [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Clothed Sex, Desk Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Highlander Hyur Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Laughter During Sex, Reunion Sex, Romantic Fluff, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Sex, the Neo-Ishgardian healing top needs a warning label</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:01:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094534</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draya/pseuds/DT%20Maxwell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Retrouvailles, (n.), French. The joy of meeting or finding someone again after a long separation. Lit., rediscovery, reunion.</em>
</p><p>~</p><p>It's been well over a moon since Synnove and Aymeric last saw one another, and neither are inclined to be <em>patient</em> any longer. Synnove's new dress simply provides welcome incentive.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Coffee &amp; Carbuncles [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/807090</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Retrouvailles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is not my first smut. This is not even my first <em>posted</em> smut. It is, however, my first non-anonymously posted smut, so while I'm nervous about sharing, I really hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Synnove frowned as she stared up at her chalkboard, an open textbook balanced on her opposite arm. Aetherochemistry wasn’t her wheelhouse—except for when she and the other aetherophysicists collaborated with the <em>energetic materials</em> specialists—but she was still one of the best mathematicians in the Guild, and she had asked Thubyrgeim to tap her for anything that could keep her sufficiently busy and <em>distracted.</em> Working through the formulae and arrays of the aetherochem department’s latest attempt to outdo the Allagans in terms of ingenious atrocities was usually enough to keep her mind focused.</p><p>
  <em>Usually.</em>
</p><p>She raised her hand to scrawl a function onto the board in bright white chalk, scowling as she did. One moon, six days since she had at least seen Aymeric, the pair of them exchanging quick kisses before breakfast and then they had been off to their individual duties.</p><p>First, it had been midterms; proctoring and then grading while running herd on the other aetherophysics professors meant she ended up crashing on the couch here in her office, too tired to chance mucking up the teleportation to either the house in Lower La Noscea or to Ishgard. Then, an arcanima conference the Guild was hosting, which had overlapped with the start of wargames the Temple Knights were hosting for the Eorzean Alliance in the Dravanian highlands. Which, fine—they had planned for all of that, had known they had a fortnight and a handful of days where neither would be home and they would have to make do with sporadic linkpearl calls whenever they had a free moment.</p><p>Except then a late season blizzard had roared out of Abalathia’s Spine to slam into Coerthas and Dravania, dropping three fulms of snow on the wargames site the first night and another five over the next four days. While thankfully the Alliance forces had had more than adequate supplies until the camp could be dug out and the pass back to Coerthas cleared by the engineers, it still had meant another sennight’s delay. Another sennight’s separation.</p><p>She <em>missed</em> Aymeric. Missed his smile, his kisses, the way his nose crinkled when she kissed the tip of it when he was still soft with sleep. Missed his hugs, his laughter, his dry wit keeping her rambunctious, trouble-making carbuncles in line.</p><p>Missed his voice, gone low and gravely with desire. Missed his hands, firm and teasing in alternation as he caressed her skin and, with his fingers, worked her to a sweet, gentle orgasm that left her sighing in contentment. Missed his skin, flushed from his cheeks all the way down to his chest while she moved atop him to mutual completion, the color only deepening as she kissed and teased him, coaxing him back to full hardness inside her before riding him once more.</p><p>Synnove abruptly shook herself and slapped her cheek, ignoring how warm she was all over. <em>No.</em> There was math to be done, and dangerous math at that; arousal would do her no good, just add to her irritability. Bad enough neither her hand nor her toys had been sufficient to properly satisfy her the other night, even with Aymeric rumbling in her ear over the linkpearl while he brought himself off at the same time. Worse than no orgasms? Poor orgasms.</p><p>Her knight would be home in another day or two. Then they could cuddle and make love as much as they wanted. She just had to stay focused and last that long without biting someone else’s head off because sexual frustration was turning her into a beast.</p><p>She took a deep breath, slapping her cheek again as she let the breath out slowly, and settled in to work.</p><p>It took her longer than usual, but eventually she settled into the rhythm of working through the equation that would program the array for this absolutely disgusting variation on <em>Miasma,</em> occasionally paging through the textbook to double check the aetherochemistry-specific functions needed. The late morning light filtering into her office at the top of the Gate’s northeast tower, through the high windows that ringed the round room, was warm and bright, a much-needed reprieve after the past days of cold, lashing rain from the remnants of that same Abalathian blizzard passing over Vylbrand; some of the tension she carried melted away as the sunshine cloaked her bare shoulders. She sighed quietly as she reached the last of the free space on this particular chalkboard, grasped the bottom edge of the board, and pushed it up and out of the way to get to the slate behind it.</p><p>At some point, she heard the door to her office swing open and then close two heartbeats later—and, perhaps, have the lock turned; she wasn’t paying close enough attention to tell. Footsteps echoed across the hardwood floor for four strides before whomever had entered came to the rug of the sitting area offset from her desk; three more strides, and the visitor settling on the couch. As deep in her work as she was, she had no intention of turning to see who it was until she was finished, and her visitor apparently was content to wait. Probably Thubyrgeim.</p><p>Another thirty minutes of writing, erasing, and more erasing, Synnove had filled both chalkboards of this particular set, and she was done. She closed her textbook, set down her chalk, and took a step back, craning her neck to read the top board and go through the equation from the beginning. She reread once, twice, and nodded in satisfaction. So far, the mathemathics for the base programming was sound; she could begin to map out the geometry for the first section of the arrays to catch any errors in the aetherochemists’ work after lunch.</p><p>“No longer lost in arcanima, my love?”</p><p>Synnove didn’t <em>quite</em> jump a fulm in the air as she gasped, but it was a near thing. She whirled around, eyes wide, and squealed in open delight. “Aymeric!”</p><p>Her handsome knight grinned at her from the couch, his cheek in his hand and his elbow braced against the couch’s back. He was dressed down: sapphire shirt in cotton beneath a black leather jerkin, with breeches and boots to match the latter. His sword-belt was empty and there was no sign of Naegling or his bow and quiver; he must have stopped by the house first, before he made his way to Mealvaan’s Gate.</p><p>Her textbook fell from her hands, but Synnove spared it no thought, already dashing forward and darting around her huge ironwood desk. Aymeric grinned wider and pushed himself to his feet, just in time to catch her as she barreled into him. He took a few steps into the open space between the couch and chairs and spun her around three times, the both of them laughing in unbridled joy, then set her on her feet and kissed her forehead directly on her clan mark.</p><p>“Hello, Synnove,” he murmured, dropping light, pecking kisses between her eyes, on the bridge of her nose where sat her second clan mark, then on the tip.</p><p>She tilted her head back when he reached her lips, beaming fit to burst. “Hello, Aymeric,” she said against him.</p><p>Aymeric smiled, but drew away instead of giving her the kiss for which she ached. Synnove pouted, but relented when her beloved wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close; she tucked her face into his neck, her arms going around his waist, and pressed a kiss to his pulse. He sighed heavily, tension bleeding from him as he nuzzled his face into her hair, and they swayed together for a few long, wonderful moments.</p><p>“You said you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow, or possibly the day after,” she said, muzzy with contentment. “Not that I’m complaining, mind.”</p><p>He chuckled. “Deliberately overestimating in case we made poor time after leaving camp,” he said. “Thank Halone, the weather cleared long enough for the airships to meet us at Dragonspit and ferry us home, though I believe the Maelstrom troops had to spend a few days in Revenant’s Toll because of the poor weather here.”</p><p>“Makes sense,” said Synnove, sighing. “I hadn’t heard about any of the troop movements, but then again I’ve been a right bear every time someone brought up the topic.”</p><p>She felt him grin against her hair. “I can imagine,” he said with a teasing lilt. “Admittedly, I wasn’t much better; Lucia and Handeloup were quite tired of my foul mood towards the end.”</p><p>She allowed herself a moment of pure ego at that. Oh, there was no chance he would have openly let slip his agitation—he had been a public figure in Ishgard far too long for that—but even in private, among his friends, he tended towards composure and good cheer. If his mask had been cracking even then, <em>well.</em></p><p>“Now…” Aymeric was suddenly serious, though a thread of amusement lingered in his voice, and he withdrew a step, catching her hands in his own as he did. He slowly raked his gaze down her body, then back up just as slowly to meet her own. The hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and he said, “What is <em>this?</em>”</p><p>Heat danced down her spine and settled just behind her navel at recognizing the particular fire in his eyes. She licked her lips in anticipation.</p><p>At first glance, her dress appeared unremarkable: off the shoulder with a deep, low neckline, shaped with a strapless bodice of brown leather that molded to her torso and glowed against the deepwood green of the rest of the dress, with the sleeves gathered just beneath her elbows. The skirts were nearly floor-length—from the back. From the front, the hem was almost indecently short, barely keeping her modest, and showed off the skin of her thighs that weren’t covered by her favorite pair of black silk stockings, and the matching heeled thigh boots she typically wore with them.</p><p>It had been a genuinely innocent choice of garment that morning. It was a brand new dress, and as with anything made of leather, the built-in bodice needed to be broken in further, even if it had been tailored specifically for her, and the best way to break in the bodice was simply to wear it, and wear it often. And she had been planning on staying in her office most of the day, where it was warm. As for the stockings and boots… Well, the simple reason was she liked them.</p><p>(And she was aware of the effect her legs had on people.)</p><p>Aymeric could likely guess her reasons for wearing this particular ensemble, as she had done similarly in the past. But he had never seen <em>this</em> dress before, and none of her others had ever gotten quite the same reaction she was reading in his face now.</p><p>An explanation would not be anywhere near as fun.</p><p>Synnove grinned at him, stepping back, letting her hands slip from his grasp, and took another step, and another, her hips slowly swaying as she did. His gaze dropped to them, hunger passing over his features before he mastered himself and paced after her. When she reached her desk, she leaned back and slid onto it, so she was perched at the very edge, legs crossed at the knee, the right over the left. The dress’s fabric pooled on either side of her, providing a clearer glimpse of the bare skin between the tops of her stockings and the bottom hem of the dress’s front. “What?” she said, blinking innocently and primly settling her hands in her lap. “Is my new dress not to your liking?”</p><p>“That isn’t a dress,” Aymeric drawled, eyebrows raised as he prowled closer. “That is a chemise, a bodice, and an asymmetric petticoat sewn together in a haphazard attempt at modesty. It’s positively scandalous.”</p><p>Her grin widened to coeurl-like proportions when Aymeric reached her and leaned down to rest his palms flat on her desk on either side of her hips, caging her in, his face at level with her own and his body radiating familiar warmth. This close, she could see how wide his pupils had dilated, the icy blue of his irises a thin ring of color in contrast to the light flush of arousal on his cheeks. Aymeric’s grin matched her own now, and oh, wasn’t <em>that</em> a sight, the Lord Commander of Ishgard’s Temple Knights leering at her like he was a sailor set loose among the pleasure barges.</p><p><em>All mine,</em> a vicious, primal corner of her mind purred.</p><p>Synnove dragged the top of her foot up Aymeric’s leg and tilted it to hook behind his knee. Out loud, she murmured, “And what do you intend to do about it, good ser?”</p><p>“Oh,” he replied in the same low tone, lust adding a rough burr to his voice, “I have a few ideas in mind.”</p><p>For a moment, both their expressions softened as they brushed their noses together in a gentle nuzzle, Synnove bringing her hands up to cup his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks, the pair simply basking in one another’s presence. Aymeric smiled, his eyes crinkling in the way that always made her heart melt, and coaxed her head back just enough to brush his lips against her own in light, teasing butterfly kisses until she huffed at him in exasperation. Then, with a dark little laugh that sent a thrill down her spine, he finally kissed her <em>properly.</em></p><p>Synnove arched up against him and dragged her hands down to grip his shoulders, eyes falling shut as she moaned. Aymeric kissed like he was on the battlefield: sure, commanding, <em>no mercy.</em> Her knight was as hungry as she was, their lips moving in familiar tandem, a moon of separation because of <em>duty</em> and <em>responsibility</em> on both their parts having done nothing to dull their desire for each other. She moved to cover his heart with her left hand, stroking the skin above the open vee of his shirt and jerkin with the tips of her fingers, and felt more than heard his rumble of delight when she parted her lips and purred in invitation.</p><p>As Aymeric’s tongue tangled with hers, Synnove raised her knee, pressing ever so gently up against his groin. She chuckled into their kiss, a surge of pride welling up—he was already half hard, and just from admiring the sight of her in her new dress. Aymeric growled at her, playful, the sound starting deep in his chest and reverberating into her as he rocked his hips once, twice.</p><p>Mmm, not close enough for her preference. She tapped her toe against the back of his knee and Aymeric shifted back, giving her room to uncross and spread her legs, and then moved immediately into the cradle of them as soon as he had the opportunity. They both groaned in mutual satisfaction, Aymeric wrapping an arm around Synnove’s waist to yank her closer, only the flimsy cloth of her smalls, the short front hem of her dress, and the leather of Aymeric’s breeches between her core and his thickening cock. He thrust against her, <em>hard,</em> and Synnove broke away to gasp, clutching at his shoulder with her right hand and grasping at his shirt with her left. Aymeric did it again with a victorious chuckle, and she threw back her head and moaned, shamelessly wanton. <em>Fuck,</em> he felt so good, the pressure against her core a shock of levin up her spine, the rasp of his breeches against the bare skin of her thighs above her silk stockings an exquisite delight. She locked her thighs around his hips, braced the heels of her boots against her desk for leverage, and thrust back against him.</p><p>Now it was Aymeric’s turn to moan while Synnove laughed at him. She didn’t retain the upper hand for long, however, her beloved dropping a kiss on the beauty mark at the corner of her mouth. Then her chin. Then the soft spot behind her jaw, tilting her head out of the way to get to it. A ragged moan fell from her mouth when his kisses turned to nips, Aymeric marching his way down her neck with ruthless precision until he reached the swell of her breasts.</p><p>“Untie this,” he murmured into her skin.</p><p>Synnove’s laugh this time was high-pitched and breathy, but she let go of his shirt to yank at the laces at the top of her bodice while Aymeric mouthed at the tops of her breasts. Once the laces were undone, she loosened the bodice itself until the leather gaped, and it and the low collar of her dress sagged, the sleeves sliding from her biceps to bunch at her elbows. Aymeric’s answering chuckle was low and pleased, and he briefly canted his head to the side to softly kiss the tops of the arcanima sigils, no longer hidden, tattooed into the skin of her arms. Then he returned his attention to her chest and nuzzled the chemise the rest of the way off, taking her right breast into his mouth.</p><p>She sighed shakily, head lolling back, her hand scrabbling now for the ties of his jerkin while she arched into Aymeric, trusting him to keep her upright. He flattened his tongue to lave her nipple, every lick a fresh spark feeding the heat pooling in her belly, her hips hitching in a search for more friction as she began to pant. Aymeric kept his own hips maddeningly still, however, his attention firmly on her breast, and it wasn’t until her panting turned to a whine of overstimulation that he pulled back. She <em>bucked</em> at the sudden shock of cold, moaning, as Aymeric nipped his way to the opposite breast and repeated his attentions there, laughing against her.</p><p>“Stop <em>teasing,</em>” she gasped out, tilting her chin to glare down at him.</p><p>He glanced up at her, the icy blue ring of his iris a sudden shock of color, and grinned around her breast, dark and lascivious. “Make me,” he purred.</p><p>Synnove narrowed her eyes at him—and snaked her hand down between them to palm his cock through his breeches, the leather doing little to hide just how hard he was now. Aymeric groaned in mixed surprise and pleasure, bucking into her grasp, and she carefully squeezed in response, grinding the heel of her palm against where she felt the crown of him was. He groaned again, letting her breast slide from his mouth to rest his forehead against her sternum, and splayed his hand at the base of her spine, hauling her close so her hand was trapped betwixt the two of them, her own knuckles pressing against her clit.</p><p>She hissed at the sensation, the movement of her hand tormenting them both now. Anyone who claimed her Aymeric fought honorably was an absolute fool who had allowed themselves to be taken in by his wily charms; like any good commander, if it was a fair fight, he hadn’t planned correctly, and it was an approach he took to his bedplay, as well, if far less seriously. Which meant it was time to resort to her own dirty tactics.</p><p>Synnove smirked and leaned forward to nip the helix of Aymeric’s right ear.</p><p>He <em>moaned,</em> a low, breathy sound, a tremor running through him, and his cock twitched in her hand. Her smirk widened, and she began leisurely nipping her way down the length of his ear, bringing her right hand up from his shoulder to gently run her fingers along the bottom edge of his left ear. Aymeric gasped wetly, shaking in the cradle of her thighs, his hips stuttering against her, and when she sucked the tip of his right ear between her lips while petting the tip of his left, the echo of his shout through her towertop office sent a thrill of triumph down her spine.</p><p>“Mercy,” he gasped, half-laughing. “I yield, I yield, you fiendish wench!”</p><p>She snickered and gave his ear one last nip—he swore at her—before drawing back, a satisfied coeurl’s grin on her face. <em>Point to me,</em> she thought, and wiggled her hand between them free, bringing it up to hook her index and middle fingers under his belt and the top laces of his breeches.</p><p>“No more teasing,” Synnove said with a purr. Lust burned through her veins and her thighs strained with the effort of not grinding herself against her beloved.</p><p>“No more teasing,” Aymeric agreed, licking his lips. “Those boots are staying on, however.”</p><p>Synnove threw back her head and laughed, relaxing her legs so that Aymeric could step away. “Fetish,” she sang mockingly, inching the short front hem of her dress up and out of her way to hook her thumbs into the top of her panties.</p><p>Aymeric leered at her, grinning, unbuckling his belt and yanking it off in a smooth motion before letting it fall with a dull <em>thunk</em> to the rug. “We’ve had this discussion before,” he said, beginning to unlace his breeches. “It’s not a fetish if I only find it satisfying with <em>you.</em>”</p><p>She raised her eyebrows and made an <em>uh-huh</em> noise as she carefully balanced on the edge of her desk and worked her panties off her hips, dragging them past the tops of her silk stockings, then the tops of her leather boots, until she reached her knees and let go; gravity took care of the rest. She sat back upright, bracing her hands on either side of herself on the desk, and let her knees fall open once more.</p><p>Aymeric’s eyes sparked with hunger and he stepped back between her legs, freeing his cock as he did. Synnove shivered, both in desire and in anticipation, and reached up to cup his cheek with her palm. A moon had been too long, and she <em>ached</em> for him.</p><p>Without breaking eye contact, Aymeric tilted his head just enough to kiss the heel of her palm, sending another shiver through her. His answering smile was dark and rakish, and he set his hands on her knees, gliding them up the smooth leather of her boots. He gripped her thighs where they spilled from the hems of her stockings, palms caressing bare skin and silk both, thumbs rubbing circles in the sensitive skin of her inner thighs that elicited more shivers from her, and pushed her legs open wider.</p><p>Synnove reached down between them to grasp his cock, dragging her hand down the velvety length of him and back up, her own smile lascivious as Aymeric hissed in pleasure. She would swear he actually throbbed in her hand as she pumped him once more, and that was as satisfying as it always was, knowing he missed and desired her as much as she did him. Her other hand drifted from his cheek to the back of his neck, and she pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss, greedy as ever for him, as she guided his cock to her dripping core and nestled the head of him between her folds.</p><p>They moaned in unison into their kiss as Aymeric flexed his hips and slowly, smoothly slid inside her. Synnove rolled her own hips in response, welcoming the stretch of her cunt being filled, pleasure sparking along every nerve. When he was fully hilted in her, her bare breasts pressed against the leather of his jerkin, they drew back just enough to gasp for breath, the air between them hot and humid. Aymeric dragged one hand from her thigh to vanish beneath her skirts and squeeze her ass, bracing himself on the desk with his other hand, and Synnove used the opportunity to once more hook her legs around his hips, this time with the heels of her boots digging into his thighs.</p><p>“It’s still a fetish, by the way,” Synnove said, matter-of-fact.</p><p>Aymeric snorted a laugh, dropping his head to her shoulder. “Always wanting the last word,” he said. And then he ground against her, her clit catching right against the base of his cock.</p><p>She gasped, eyelids fluttering, as she shook in his arms. “Cheater!” she managed to choke out.</p><p>“All’s fair in love and war,” he said brightly, picking his head up to kiss her. Her huff of consternation morphed into a sighing moan when he drew back his hips, his cock dragging against her internal walls agonizingly slowly until only the tip remained within her—and then snapped his hips forward to thrust back inside in a single movement, hard and fast. She threw back her head, crying out, as Aymeric laughed at her darkly.</p><p>“Point made,” she said, voice high and strangled. “Now <em>fuck me.</em>”</p><p>“Your wish is my command,” Aymeric drawled, widening his stance, and rocked into her once more.</p><p>Synnove arched into the leisurely pace he set, draping her arms over his shoulders. His steady thrusts pulled breathy sighs from her lips; a sudden swivel of hips drew forth a high-pitched moan; the drag of his tongue along her collarbone and the nip of his teeth left her shivering and baring her throat for more. He felt so damned <em>good,</em> hot and hard and heavy within her, fit so damned <em>perfectly</em> as they undulated together, and he was all <em>hers</em>.</p><p>Her breathing swiftly turned ragged, her whining staccato pants echoing back down to them from the high rafters of her office as Aymeric pushed her further and further towards ecstasy. There was no chance she would last much longer; the friction on her clit from his thrusts, the warmth of him inside her and around her, his wordless growling at her neck reverberating through her sternum, and the simple fact that this was their first coupling in well over a moon meant the hot coil of pleasure in her belly just kept winding tighter and tighter and tighter, so quickly it nearly made her reel. She just—just needed a little bit <em>more.</em></p><p>Aymeric sensed her desperation—he always did, and he was never wont to be cruel, deriving more enjoyment from pushing her off the precipice as many times as he could than letting her teeter with no relief—for he wrapped his arm low around her hips and yanked her into him, altering his thrusts to be short and shallow and grinding. As she clutched at him in turn, nails digging into his leather-covered shoulders, reveling in the flex of his thighs and the muscles in his abdomen, Aymeric sucked a mark into the side of her neck. “My Synnove,” he rasped against her skin. “My gorgeous, glorious Synnove.”</p><p>“Yours,” she said, wrecked and wanting, “yours, yours, yours—”</p><p>Another hard thrust, dragging at her clit, and the coil finally released. Synnove choked on a keening whine as she came, her mind whiting out as bliss overrode her senses. Distantly, she felt herself shaking and her toes curling in her boots, heard Aymeric murmuring praises, though she couldn’t make out the words, as he kissed her throat and stilled his hips to keep from overstimulating her.</p><p>She slid down from her peak slowly, breath shuddering and limbs continuing to tremble with aftershocks, and blinked her eyes open. Her mouth and throat felt dry and she swallowed to wet them, licking her lips after, and turned her head to tuck her face into her beloved’s neck. Desire still pooled inside her, heat licking along her nerves demanding satisfaction, but she needed just a bit longer to overcome the sensitivity that made pleasure too much to enjoy. Aymeric gently pet her lower back in the meantime, nose pressed into her temple as he breathed her in. He was still hard inside her and he practically thrummed with the tension of holding steady, but he remained patient as he ever did, his self-control iron.</p><p>Always so good to her, her handsome knight.</p><p>Synnove raised her head, dragging her lips from his neck to his ear, nipping at the lobe and tugging ever so gently with her teeth, and flexed the muscles of her core to clench down on his cock at the same moment. Aymeric groaned, his control fraying for a brief instant to roll his hips against her before he forcibly stilled himself once more.</p><p>“Why’d you stop?” she purred into his ear, close enough so he could feel the way her mouth pulled into a wicked grin. “Do it again.”</p><p>Aymeric chuckled, proud and delighted. “Insatiable,” he said, but began to rut against her anew.</p><p>“For you?” Synnove said with a content sigh, tipping her head back to savor the sensation of being filled over and over. “Always.”</p><p>Her climb towards another peak was slower this time. Aymeric’s pace, however, was faster, harder, unmistakably the fucking she had commanded of him earlier, her knight bent to the task of pleasing them both. Perched as she was on the desk and his arm a vise around her waist, she didn’t have the leverage to meet his thrusts, could only take and take and take. Instead, she brought one hand up to gently drag her nails along the back of his neck while also nipping once more at his ear. A tremor ran through Aymeric and he lost his rhythm, groaning, eyes squeezed shut as he sucked in a deep breath.</p><p>He slit his eyes open and pulled back just enough to glare at her, the effect ruined by the playful tone of his voice when he said, “Now who’s the cheat?”</p><p>Synnove snickered and rather than answering, pulled him into a kiss. Their tongues tangled and they chased back and forth into one another’s mouths, nipped at one another’s lips, brushed and pecked before falling back into a deep, open-mouthed kiss, simply luxuriating in the taste and feel of each other. When they eventually broke apart, Ayermic tilted his head to kiss the underside of her jaw, and stayed there as he began to move once again, nipping at the delicate skin.</p><p>While her first climax had taken the edge off her lust, now, as Aymeric attained the same speed of thrusts he had had before she broke his concentration, Synnove was realizing the same level of stimulation wasn’t <em>enough.</em> She bit her lip, hitching her legs higher around his waist, the heels of her boots now digging into his ass, and for a few triumphant moments her pleasure spiraled higher—before it suddenly plateaued once more. She groaned in frustration, head falling forward to rest on his shoulder.</p><p>“What do you need, my love?” Aymeric panted into her ear. “My hand? My mouth?”</p><p>Her mind stuttered as she struggled to identify what the <em>hells</em> her body had decided mid-fuck wasn’t good enough any longer—and then his cock brushed that spot on the front of her cunt that had her mouth dropping open in a loud, drawn out moan as euphoria crackled like levin across every nerve in her body and blanked her mind. <em>Gods,</em> right, yes, <em>that.</em> Aymeric really <em>could</em> fuck her stupid.</p><p>“Deeper,” Synnove gasped out. “Need you deeper.”</p><p>Aymeric grunted his acknowledgment, biting one last time at her throat, and reluctantly pulled away so they could disentangle themselves. They both groaned when the movement necessitated him withdrawing his cock from inside her, and he stepped back, his hands on her hips to steady her, to give her room to stand on shaking legs. He kissed her quickly, hard and closed-mouthed, then spun her around. As he pulled up her skirts and yanked them to the side, Synnove shoved papers and books out of her way and leaned over, bracing her elbows against her desktop and arching her back. Behind her, Aymeric groaned again, a deep rumbling sound from low in his chest.</p><p>“Come on, darling,” she said, coquettishly peering over her shoulder and wiggling her hips. “Fuck me.”</p><p>He bared his teeth at her in a feral grin, eyes burning with lust, and didn’t respond verbally, merely grasped her hips so tightly she knew the skin would bloom with bruises, and thrust back into her cunt so hard and so quickly that her heavy ironwood desk actually <em>creaked.</em> As he did, his cock <em>draaaagged</em> against her sweet spot, and she bucked back against him, a piercing wail falling from her throat as her mind went briefly blank again. When she came back to herself, Aymeric was leaning over her, left arm bracketing her own and his right grasping her shoulder, his weight keeping his length pressed tightly <em>right there</em> in her cunt, and she <em>keened,</em> shaking and breathless, as he shifted his hips and sent new levinbolts through her.</p><p>“<em>Rude.</em>” The word emerged as a croak, and she swallowed heavily. “Very rude.”</p><p>Aymeric kissed her forehead, the brush of his lips against her heated skin as gentle as a butterfly. “You asked me to fuck you, did you not?” he said, voice lilting with faux innocence. “And you love me anyway.”</p><p>Synnove fluttered her eyes open—when had she closed them?—and half-heartedly glared up at him, even as affection welled up in her chest. “As if that was ever in question,” she said, reaching up with her right hand to entwine her fingers with his on her shoulder and briefly canting her head to the side to kiss his thumb.</p><p>He nuzzled against her hair with a chuckle. “My wonderful Synnove,” he murmured. And then, sly and teasing: “Do you want to come?”</p><p>“<em>Please.</em>”</p><p>He set to the task of their mutual pleasure without further delay, drawing back his hips and <em>slamming</em> into her. She choked on a ragged cry, eyes rolling back, and pushed back against him, grinding themselves together. His approving growl echoed in her ears and settled in her bones as he slammed into her again, and again, and again.</p><p><em>This</em> was the fucking Synnove had wanted: Aymeric brutally pounding into her while she met him thrust for thrust and clawed at her desk with her free hand, legs splayed wide to take him. The sounds were obscene: the heavy smack of their hips and thighs colliding; the protesting creak of the desk; her panting wails and moans, growing ever higher in pitch as the air was punched from her lungs; his grunts and groans and soft swearing, half from exertion and half from mounting pleasure. She arched her spine further, trying to take him deeper, wanting him as close as was physically possible and then even closer than that.</p><p>Aymeric bent to kiss their entwined fingers, once, then twice, before gently extricating his hand, the action incongruous with the ferocity of their rutting. Synnove let her arm drop to the desk, and when her knight swept her hair from the back of her neck to kiss her nape, she laughed breathlessly even as she tilted her head forward to allow him better access. “Oh, my love,” she gasped, “I’m reminding you of this the next time you give me lip about being possessive.”</p><p>He grinned against her nape: her nape, where sat the northern point of her custom compass rose tattoo. Except instead of an ‘N,’ to represent north was a square field of Ishgardian blue, within which lay not the quartered escutcheon with the sigils of the High Houses, but that of House Borel alone. He had probably been riled since the moment he had stepped into her office and seen her with her back towards him.</p><p>Instead of answering her, Aymeric brought his lips to the green-eyed wolf at the compass rose’s center and kissed its forehead, the way he always did when he took her from behind, never breaking the frenzied tempo of his hips. Then he licked a stripe up her spine, back to his sigil inked into her skin, and <em>bit</em> her, hard and sharp.</p><p>Synnove moaned, high and ragged, at the new frissons of pleasure that act sent through her, and braced herself with her forearms, better able now to buck her hips to match his pace. His teeth in her, his <em>cock</em> in her constantly pressing on her sweet spot, the warmth of him, the sound of him, the smell of him, leather and sweat and sword oil; she was drunk on sensation, drunk on <em>Aymeric,</em> her whole world narrowed to focus on their frantic movements, on how badly she wanted, <em>needed</em> to come.</p><p>He released her nape and bowed himself over her, gripping the hinges of her elbows for leverage, so his mouth was at her ear and he could growl filthy praise to her. How warm, how wet, how soft her cunt, how sweet her skin, how dulcet her cries, how exquisitely beautiful she was and how it was all for <em>him.</em> She was past the point of coherency, never mind response, able only to chant his name in adoration and encouragement.</p><p>She came first: head thrown back against his shoulder to scream her pleasure, muscles seizing, core tightening around him as rapture overwhelmed her. Synnove had just enough wherewithal to turn her head and catch his ear between her teeth, and then Aymeric was biting at her neck and sending her back over the edge once more. He buried himself in her, rolling his hips once, twice, three times before he finally spent, pulsing inside her, groaning deep and resonant against her skin. The last thing she remembered, shuddering beneath him, was letting go of his ear and slumping forward as her mind went still and white.</p><p>Slowly, Synnove floated back to awareness, sluggishly opening her eyes and blinking away the spots that danced in her vision. Her cheek was pressed into the ironwood desktop, one arm trapped beneath herself just below her breasts and the other splayed out in front of her, her fingers just dangling over the desk’s opposite edge. Aymeric was slumped atop her, the weight of him along her back warm and familiar, with his face buried in her right shoulder and disheveled strands of his hair tickling her cheek and jaw; she could feel him absently petting her opposite shoulder with one hand and stroking the arcanima sigils on her right bicep with the other. Both their muscles spasmed intermittently with residual aftershocks.</p><p>“All right, sweetling?” Aymeric said eventually, not raising his head, his voice muffled and words half-slurred.</p><p>“Mmmmmmmmph.”</p><p>He snickered. “Speechless? I believe that’s a point to me, then.”</p><p>Synnove kicked at his leg with the heel of her boot. Aymeric snickered again, but the sound turned into a groan as he heaved himself off her—her own groan joined him in chorus when his softened cock slipped free from her—and rolled to the side so he could lay on his back. She pulled her arm from beneath herself and reached for him, and he caught her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss her palm, then gathered her into his arms and draped her on top of himself. She sighed contently, nosing his shirt out of the way to rest her ear directly over his heart and hooking her fingers in his jerkin before she went utterly limp; through the high windows ringing her office, the early afternoon sun was directing a beam of light onto her desk, and it was warm enough for comfort without being blinding. She let the sunshine and the steady <em>thump-thump</em> of his heartbeat lull her into a satiated doze while Aymeric leisurely stroked her spine.</p><p>Eventually, she regained enough energy to prop her chin on his sternum. Aymeric lifted his head to meet her gaze as he kept petting her, a questioning noise in his throat that became alarm when he saw the wide grin on her face that usually meant <em>trouble.</em></p><p>“I have,” she said, enunciating clearly, “three more new dresses.”</p><p>Aymeric let his head fall back against the desk with a <em>thunk.</em> “Are you trying to kill me, woman?” he groaned, halfway to laughter despite himself. “Take me to dinner before you continue debauching me!”</p><p>“That was a perfectly mutual debauchment,” she said primly, “but I’ll grant you that sustenance will be necessary. The Bismarck, or would you prefer to try that new Thavnairian café that I was waxing rhapsodic about over the linkpearl last sennight?”</p><p>“The Bismarck,” he said, wrapping one arm around her waist and carefully leveraging them both upright with the other. “I want a steak. Medium rare.”</p><p>“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have the oysters?” Synnove said with a smug leer, wrapping her arms around his torso to snuggle closer, and giggled when he swatted her hip in reprimand.</p><p>“Brat,” Aymeric said, impossibly fond.</p><p>“<em>Your</em> brat,” she said in turn, tilting her head to kiss him. He obliged her, and it was slow and sweet in a way that had them both laughing softly, with Synnove feeling her chest tighten with overwhelmed adoration. They broke apart reluctantly and pressed their foreheads together, Aymeric using his free hand to pet her thigh from knee to hip and back again while Synnove reached up to card her fingers through his hair, the pair of them luxuriating in one another’s presence.</p><p>“Missed you, my knight,” Synnove whispered.</p><p>In the same low tone, Aymeric said, “Missed you, too, my ladylove.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Special thanks to the lovely individuals of <a href="https://discord.gg/K4Wymrg">Book Club</a> for cheerleading and encouragement when I worked up the nerve to share snippets!</p><p>Super special thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehJai">tehJai</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/VicTheSpookyGoat/pseuds/VicTheSpookyGoat">VicTheSpookyGoat</a>, and the other degens of the SEEK Discord for being sounding boards, cheerleaders, betas, general collaborators, and awesome friends, and also bapping me over the head when I second-guessed myself.</p><p>For the full description of Synnove's compass rose tattoo, please see "<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/16807621/chapters/40032384#workskin">Ink</a>" from my FFXIV Write 2018 compilation.</p><p>I am now going to wallow in eldritch horror out of sheer mortification.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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